


Dropping the Ball

by missmichellebelle



Series: Ball Pit [2]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Engagement, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that Darren’s stopped, and it takes him a moment to blink back into consciousness and realize they’re in the bedroom.</p><p>Except… Their bed has been pushed into the corner, and the center of the room is commanded by an inflatable pool about two feet high.</p><p>An inflatable pool full of rainbow colored, plastic balls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropping the Ball

Chris is very certain he’s going to kill Darren.

Then again, he feels that way pretty much every time Darren interrupts his writing for something. Sometimes it’s something as small as a kiss, and Chris can easily get over his sudden murderous tendencies then. But sometimes,  _sometimes_ , he comes hopping into the office, telling Chris he  _has_  to go to the store, they need  _milk_ , and Darren would go, really, but he has that important call in a half hour, remember?

And maybe Chris should blame himself, because he knows milk isn’t an urgent thing—and one day,  _one day_ , he’ll find out how Darren makes running out of milk sound like a house fire. 

He’s carrying more than just milk as he unlocks the door to their apartment, because if he’s going to the store, he might as well pick up other things they need. His key slips three times before he manages to get it in the lock, and Chris feels his aggravation with Darren growing. Can’t he hear Chris struggling with the door? Couldn’t he maybe _unlock it_  and make life a little bit easier?

“I got your stupid milk!” He yells when he finally gets inside, only feeling a little bad that Darren might still be on his call. Chris knows it’s probably something about another audition, or progress on his next album, but he’s honestly pissed off enough that he might murder his boyfriend, so why does it matter what the next steps in his career are?

Chris moodily puts the groceries away, slamming cabinets and the fridge, and imagining that the empty plastic bags are Darren’s  _head_  as he smashes them up in his fists. Doesn’t Darren understand that Chris has deadlines, too? That he has dates to meet and calls to take and  _things to fucking do?_

He makes an aggravated noise, alone in the empty kitchen, nearly throwing the milk in the fridge. When he turns around, Darren is suddenly standing there, looking… More fidgety than normal, like he went through a pot of coffee while Chris was gone.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Chris’s anger prickles at his skin, and he glares at Darren.

“Wh—”

“Just, hold that thought?” Darren keeps shifting his weight, running his hands down his jeans, and the behavior is strange enough that it distracts Chris from his anger. “Come with me?” He holds his hand out for Chris, who takes it without thought, letting Darren lead him out of the kitchen.

It takes a few seconds before Chris realizes that Darren is  _nervous_ , and Chris’s head immediately begins to run through what could have gone down on the call. Is the audition for something big? Darren’s name is out there now, but he hasn’t starred in anything yet—still known more for his music than for his acting.

Maybe it’s something that means he’ll have to go away?

Not that they haven’t dealt with distance before, but their tours have always fallen conveniently. Chris would do a book tour, and Darren would come along and write music. Or Darren would do a tour and Chris would schedule a few interviews in coinciding cities, or have a few impromptu signings. Neither of them likes to be away for a long time, but if Darren has to go on location for filming—well, Chris is sure he can make it work, somehow.

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that Darren’s stopped, and it takes him a moment to blink back into consciousness and realize they’re in the bedroom.

Except… Their bed has been pushed into the corner, and the center of the room is commanded by an inflatable pool about two feet high.

An inflatable pool full of rainbow colored, plastic balls.

“Oh my god,” Chris says, and then Darren is grinning at him. “Oh my  _god_.”

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Darren teases, and Chris is still sort of shocked, so his feet move robotically as Darren urges him forward.

“I…” Yeah, he had. It’s not exactly something they  _celebrate_ , but it is something one of them tends to remember. There’s always a little something—Darren will make dinner, or Chris will bring home flowers,  _something_. But Chris has been so wrapped up in work lately, that it’s completely evaded him.

“Three years,” Chris murmurs, finally recovering.

“Since the day we met, so, I thought…” Darren does a flourish towards the ball pit. “I thought we could relive it.”

“You  _dork_ ,” Chris laughs, all of his anger and resentment forgotten, and Darren is already clumsily climbing into their private little ball pit. Chris covers his eyes with his palm, grinning like an idiot and shaking his head, because he fucking  _loves_  this boy.

“Yeah, but I’m  _your_  dork. Now come here.” Darren holds out both hands, and Chris goes to him, laughing as his calves get swallowed by balls. Darren tugs him to sit down, and they do—there’s hardly enough room in here for the both of them, and it’s absolutely ridiculous, but Chris can’t stop smiling.

“Alright, now… Pick one.” Darren holds his arms out in a presenting fashion, and Chris eyes him oddly for a few seconds before he remembers.

“You didn’t.”

But Darren just grins at him, lips pressed tightly together, and Chris picks up one of the balls closest to him—it’s purple, and it’s covered in Darren’s handwriting.

“ _Describe the best sex you’ve ever had_. Oh my  _god_ , Darren!”

“I knew it,” Darren says, a second before the ball bounces off his forehead. “Pick another one,” he urges, and Chris rolls his eyes. He knew already, grabbing the first one, that he was in for questions either loaded with innuendo or a ridiculous amount of cheesiness. His cheeks hurt from grinning so much, though.

He picks up a red one, laughter still in his voice as he reads it out loud.

“ _Will you ma—_ ” The words die in his mouth, cut off as the words register first in Chris’s mind. He looks up, and Darren is kneeling in front of him, holding a ring between his thumb and index finger.

Chris can’t breath.

“Finish reading it,” Darren whispers, and Chris swallows, the ball clutched loosely in one hand. He doesn’t need to pick it up to know how the sentence ends.

“Will you marry me,” Chris finishes—it’s not a question, because he’s too in shock to _make_  it in a question.

“Yes,” Darren affirms, without hesitation, and he scoots forward, picking up Chris’s left hand and waiting. “If you’ll have me.”

“Darren…” Chris can feel his eyes get wet, his throat thickening with the sudden onslaught of emotion. He always thought it was a myth, that people cried when things like this happened. But all he wants to do right now is cry, because this is  _Darren_ , the man he loves, and the man who wants to spend the rest of his life with Chris. A man _Chris_  wants to spend the rest of his life with.

“Yes,” he chokes out, because he hasn’t yet, and he’s moving to his knees so he can scramble closer. “God, yes!” Chris knows he sounds a little hysterical, that there are tears leaking out of his eyes and that his smile is stretched so big and tight that it’s _painful_. Darren’s own face looks much the same, though, his eyes crinkled with how big he’s smiling, and Chris can just barely register the cool slide of metal over his finger—his  _wedding_  finger.

They’re  _engaged_.

“I love you,” Chris says, throwing his arms around Darren’s neck and holding him close. “God,  _I love you_.”

“I love you, too,” Darren whispers into his skin, and Chris can feel Darren’s lips, still pulled in a grin.

“You’re an idiot,” Chris says next, and Darren laughs against his skin. “You sent me out for milk, I was going to  _kill_  you.”

“You can’t now, you’re stuck with me.” Darren wiggles them back and forth.

“We’re not married yet,” Chris shoots back, and then laughs, feeling giddy. Darren lifts his head, slides his bare-left hand up to cup Chris’s cheek (and the first thing they’re doing tomorrow morning is buying Darren a ring).

“ _Yet_ ,” Darren emphasizes. “Because we’re getting married.”

“…we’re getting married,” Chris parrots, and he’s smiling so hard when Darren kisses him, he can hardly kiss back.


End file.
